Nature's Solace

Sometimes, on "good" days, my parents wheel me to the other end of the hall where, for a couple hours, I am able to lie in their bed instead of my own.  I often refer to these days as my jail break. It is the only time I ever really get to leave my room and see an alternate view. I am fortunate that this alternate view also happens to be so gorgeous.

 

A funny thing happens when you are confined indoors to one room day after day for over a decade.  The outdoors becomes almost surreal in its beauty.  The mountains are always more majestic than I remembered, the trees a brighter green, and the sky so vast and vivid blue that it takes my breath away.  It feels a bit like being a child, discovering the world for the first time. 

 
I try to notice something new with each visit, such as a shrub or cactus that previously escaped my notice, the formations and patterns of the clouds, the way the branches of a particular tree sway in the wind, or how the sunlight casts varying shadows on the mountains.

A few months ago, I discovered something I'm surprised I'd never seen before.  I've been looking at these mountains now for years and somehow never realized that there's an old man up in those rocks.  I'm not sure if he's always been there, or if there's been a slight change in the shape of the rocks to make him appear more prominent. But he's there, lying down on top of the mountain, facing the sky.

(Click to enlarge, or click here for a detailed photo)

Now that I've found him, he's pretty much all I can see. I like him, though.  We are living parallel lives: lying motionless, enduring the storms that come and go. The only difference is that he gets far more sunshine than I do. :)

I also love to see the birds soaring through the sky with so much ease, grace and freedom.  They fill me with both awe and envy.

Back in my own room, a variety of birds and wildlife continue to keep me company through my window.  The goldfinches are still my favorite.  They bring a brightness to the desert and sing such beautiful songs.

Lesser goldfinch

Besides my window views, my only other real means of escape is through audio-books. Due to neurological and cognitive problems stemming from ME, I have not been able to read or watch TV in 12 years. Thus, my main way to pass the time is through listening to the radio or to audio-books from the library.  Sometimes, unfortunately, I'm too sick even for that and am unable to tolerate any sound at all.  On those days, the dreams that come with nightfall are my only relief.


Recently, I listened to the audio version of The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank.  For those who may not already know, during World War II, when Anne was just 13 years old, she and her family went into hiding in the attic of an old office building to escape capture by the Nazi regime.  They remained there for two years before being discovered.

I first read Anne's diary as a teen. It was quite interesting for me to revisit from my current perspective –  as one who is also living in confinement (though clearly confined for different reasons). 

Anne, too, writes of how nature took on a new beauty for her.  Things she once took for granted and barely noticed now rendered her speechless. Because it was so dangerous for her family to be seen, shades were always drawn and glimpses of the outside world were rare.  Anne loved to go up to the upper floor of the attic where she and her companion, Peter, could look out the window at some distance. She writes:

“The two of us looked out at the blue sky, the bare chestnut tree glistening with dew, the seagulls and other birds glinting with silver as they swooped through the air, and we were so moved and entranced that we couldn’t speak.” 

Anne felt nature was the best remedy for coping with her dismay about her circumstances. Nature made her feel like God was present and that all was as it should be.  As long as the beauty of nature existed, she stated, “I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.”

I, too, often find solace in nature.  There is something comforting in its beauty and perfection.  It is a reminder that there is harmony in life; there is possibility and hope.  Someday I will no longer be limited to windows in order to see blue skies.  Someday the answers will come, the doors will open, I will step outside and be free.

In the Meantime...

This is just a short post to let everyone know I will be taking (or continue to take) an extended break from blogging in order to focus more fully on my health. I hope to be well enough to start writing again in the near future.  In the meantime, I thought I'd share a few more photos from my little bedroom window.

Within the confines of these four walls, my life is at a standstill. Outside, life goes on -- vibrant, beautiful, active and free. It is where I so desperately long to be.

Amaryllis Blooms

Amaryllis

Cute Bunnies

Deer at Christmas-time

More Deer

Cute Round-Tailed Ground Squirrel Strikes a Pose

Pretty Goldfinch

Lots of Finches

Quail

Phainopepla

Cooper's Hawk

Finches Waiting out the Rain

Through the Clouds... A Rainbow

So shines the setting sun on adverse skies,

and paints a rainbow on the storm. ~Isaac Watts

Wishing everyone better health, fewer storms and brighter skies ahead.

These Small Candles

One thing I think this illness has taught me over the years is the need to maintain a constant sense of perspective.

I can recall healthier days many years ago when I sometimes complained about various inconveniences I now see as luxuries:  long lines at the grocery store, traffic, the high cost of a movie ticket or night out with friends, the tediousness of housecleaning, an especially difficult day at work.

And yet, as I reflect back on those things, I long to find myself in some of those same circumstances, which I now view as great privileges.

Today, I would do anything for the blessing of being well enough to go to a grocery store and pick out my own food, and would happily stand in long lines to do so.  I would be equally thrilled to pay any amount if it allowed me even one night of health to spend out (or in) with my family and friends.  And I would never complain about a long or hard day at work because I'd be so overjoyed to even be ABLE to work that I would be there half an hour early every single day.

When I first became ill, I thought I'd lost so much. And I had.  But despite how difficult my life had become as a result of my health, I was still able (with extreme determination) to continue to work. I was still occasionally able to go to lunch or to a movie with a friend.  Though it was difficult, I could do my own laundry, get my own groceries, cook my own meals.   I didn't realize how extremely fortunate I still was.

And then, I had a life-changing setback which left me housebound. Suddenly, I found myself  once again longing for my old life. Not just the life I had before I got sick, but the life I had just prior to the setback. If only I could get back to my previous level, I thought, I'd never take anything for granted again.

And then another setback struck, this one leaving me bedridden. Then another, leaving me unable to speak above a whisper. Then another, leaving me unable to shower. And so on.

Each time I have a setback, I find myself yearning for what I had before it -- for what gifts I did not fully appreciate as much as I should have, and for things I never even imagined I could lose or would have to go without.


This illness can take away so much from our lives: our independence, our careers, our hobbies and our sense of identity. In extreme cases like mine, it can even take away basic, elemental abilities we don't expect to lose until we are nearing the end of our lives.

As I've mentioned previously, in order to cope with this degree of  loss, I've had to learn to shift my thinking; to try to focus on what things I can do on any given day, and not on what I can't. This is often easier said then done.

Struggling with these challenges, I recently found myself searching for quotes on hope. I came across the following:

"In moments of discouragement, defeat, or even despair, there are always certain things to cling to. Little things usually: remembered laughter, the face of a sleeping child, a tree in the wind -- in fact, any reminder of something deeply felt or dearly loved.

No man is so poor as not to have many of these small candles. When they are lighted, darkness goes away and a touch of wonder remains."

-- "These Small Candles" (attributed to a tombstone inscription in Britain)

It reminded me to take a moment and reflect on what small (and even large) candles still remain in my life. Here are just a few:

Friends and Family

Sweet Notes from my Fiance

Hearing those 3 words....

Flowers to Brighten My Day

Hot Cups of Tea

The Rare Chocolate Indulgence

Comfort Foods

Sweet, Healthy Fruit

Audiobooks (and getting lost in a good story)

Bird Song

Window Views, Blue Skies and Puffy Clouds

Soft Breezes

Beautiful Music That Carries Me Away

Photos of my Niece and Nephew

Little Kid Drawings (made just for me)

Childhood Memories
(that's me climbing our maple tree)

Humor and Things That Make Me Smile

Memories of Past Travels
(This is a photo I took while in Venice, Italy)

Hope for the Future

Dreams --
For it is in dreams that I am almost always healthy.
It is there where I can still walk, talk, run, dance, travel
and even fly.

What are some of your small candles?

_____________________________________________________________

Photos that are not my own are courtesy of weheartit.com or gettyimages.com

Quotes: Finding Expression Through Others

I love when someone writes or says something poignant that resonates with me, that makes me think of or see life in a new way, or that fills me with a sense of awe and peace. I love when an emotion or insight that I had been unable to express myself is so perfectly articulated for me through the words of others. Whenever I am struck by a person's thoughts or writings, I scribble them down, or type and print them out to place in a special journal I've kept throughout the years. Or, rather, in one of what has now become several journals.

I started collecting quotes long before I fell sick, and continued for many years thereafter. For the most part, however, I am now too ill. It simply takes too much energy to write them down. As I've mentioned before, I can only listen to books on audio, so I therefore have to transcribe what I hear in order to jot them down in my journals. This can often be a bit painstaking, especially if the quote is long.

I do still have quite a few quotes saved on my laptop though, and I thought I'd share a few of those with you today. They are not necessarily my favorites -- just ones I had readily available. As you will see, most of the quotes I collect are ones that I can relate to in terms of illness, struggle, one's inner spirit, and finding the beauty of life despite suffering. I hope some of them resonate with you as well.

***

You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.
— Maya Angelou

***

You are the knowing, and not the condition that is known.
-- Stillness Speaks by Eckhart Tolle

***

Really, no matter how frightened and discouraged I may become about the future, I look forward to it. In spite of everything I see all around me everyday, I have a shaky assurance that everything will turn out fine. I don't think I'm the only one. Why else would the phrase "everything's all right" ease a deep and troubled place in so many of us? We just don't know. We never know so much, yet we have such faith. We hold our hands over our hurts and lean forward, full of yearning and forgiveness. It is how we keep on, this kind of faith.
--Talk Before Sleep by Elizabeth Berg

***

Everything is holding its breath inside me. Everything is waiting to explode like Christmas. I want to be all new and shiny. Not this way, every evening talking to the trees, leaning out my window, imagining what I can't see.
--The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

***

Something in me did not want to give up on life, was unwilling to let go, wanted to fight to the very end. Where that part of me got the heart, I don't know.

Some of us give up on life with only a resigned sigh. Others fight a little, then lose hope. Still others, and I am one of those, never give up. We fight, and fight and fight. We fight no matter the cost of battle, the losses we take, the improbability of success. We fight to the very end. It's not a question of courage. It's something constitutional, an inability to let go. It may be nothing more than life-hungry stupidity.

With the every first rays of [morning] light, it came alive in me: hope. As things emerged in outline and filled in color, hope increased until it was like a song in my heart. Oh, what it was to bask in it. Things would work out yet. The worst was over. I had survived the night. Today, I would be rescued. To think that, to string those words together in my mind, was itself a source of hope. Hope fed on hope.
-- Life of Pi by Yann Martel

***

Life, even at it's simplest level, occurs apparently just for its own sake. It is easy to overlook this thought, that life just is. As humans, we are inclined to think that life must have a point. We have plans and aspirations and desires. We want to take constant advantage of all the intoxicating existence we've been endowed with. But what's life to a lichen? Yet it's impulse to exist to be is every bit as strong as ours -- arguably even stronger. If I were told I would have to spend decades being a furry growth on a rock in the woods, I believe I would lose the will to go on. Lichens don't. Like virtually all living things, they will suffer any hardship, endure any insult, for a moment's additional existence. Life, in short, just wants to be.
--A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson

***

Be careful reading health books. You may die of a misprint.
--Mark Twain

***

I wish so much that you could get hold of the idea of what perfection in this world consists of. It is not like going up a great hill from which we see an ever widening landscape, a greater horizon, a plain receding farther and farther into the distance. It is more like an overgrown path that we cannot find. We grope about, we are caught by brambles, we lose all sense of the distance covered. We do not know if we are going around and around, or if we are advancing. We are certain only of one thing: that we desire to go on, even though we are worn and tired. That is your life, and you should rejoice greatly because of it. For it is a true life, serious and real, on which God's eyes and heart are open.
--Abbey de Trouville

***

People go forth to wonder at the height of mountains, the huge waves of the seas, the broad flow of rivers, the extent of the ocean, the course of the stars -- and forget to wonder at themselves.
--St. Augustine

***

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. For beautiful hair, let a child run their fingers through it once a day. For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone. People, more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed.
--Attributed to Audrey Hepburn

***

Words fail me sometimes. I have read most every one in the Webster's International Dictionary of the English Language, but still have trouble making them come when I want them to. Right now, I want a word that describes the feeling you get -- a cold, sick feeling deep down inside -- when you know something is happening that will change you, and you don't want it to, but you can't stop it. And you know for the first time, for the very first time, that there will now be a before, and an after. A was, and a will be. And you will never again be quite the same person you were. What is the word for that feeling? For knowledge and fear and loss all mixed together?
-- A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly
(this made me think of the moment I first got sick, as well as some of my more serious health setbacks)

***

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.
—Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl

***

Beyond there is light and music and sweet companionship, but I may not enter. Fate -- silent, pitiless -- bars the way. Fain would I question his imperious decree, for my heart is still undisciplined and passionate; but, my tongue will not utter the bitter, futile words that rise to my lips, and they fall back into my heart like unshed tears. Silence sits immense upon my soul. Then comes hope with a smile and whispers, ‘There is joy in self-forgetfulness.’ So I try to make the light in others’ eyes my sun, the music in others’ ears my symphony, the smile on others’ lips my happiness.
--The Story of My Life by Helen Keller

***

You are as prone to love as the sun is to shine.
--Thomas Traherne

***

Perhaps the worth of any lifetime is measured more in kindness than in competency.
--Rachel Naomi Remen

***

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says "I'll try again tomorrow. "
— Mary Anne Radmacher